Bamburgh Castle was on Carole’s list of things to do on the way up the country.
So obviously, every castle we saw on the way was called out as being Bamburgh Castle, despite being entirely different in both appearance and location. Not to mention name!
But eventually, as we fought against our sat-nav who insisted that the coastal road was not for us, the castle loomed ahead of us.
Several miles in front of us. But it was in front of us.
As we set off from home, as a side note, Carole proudly announced she was travelling with no purse.
So as soon as the castle appeared Carole pulled off into the first available car park. Eager, as ever, to see the castle.
A man emerged from a shed and took £2 from us. Well, no, from me. Carole has no purse, remember.
We are miles away from the castle. Miles.
The man from the shed has a Bamburgh Castle jacket on, though. I’m willing to bet if we’d looked really closely it said “you can only just see” in very small print above it.
We half-heartedly walked a bit from the car. Well, I half-heartedly walked. Carole strode out like an invader looking to beseige the fortifications.
The castle got NO closer.
So we left that car park. £2 for a whole day, and we’d been there for 15 minutes. We drove on, Carole disheartened at the lack of castle. Me disheartened at the cost of the lack of castle.
Then another car park appeared.
Directly opposite the castle.
Like you could reach out and touch it.
And the cost of this car park?
Nada. Nowt. Nothing. Gratis. Free.
Carole went off to see her castle. I fell to my knees in the middle of the car park and just screamed, “Why?!?!?!” at whoever was listening, £2 worse off and I couldnt even get an ice cream because there was no-one in the van.